Читать онлайн книгу «Something To Treasure» автора Virginia McCullough

Something To Treasure
Virginia McCullough
If anyone can save him, she's the oneJerrod Walters hopes relocating to the coastal town of Two Moon Bay can be the fresh start he and his young daughter need. But the single dad is caught off guard when a beautiful PR professional offers to promote his diving excursions to legendary shipwreck sites.There’s so much he admires about Dawn Larson, starting with the woman's upbeat, can-do personality. Dawn’s boundless capacity for joy might be the only thing capable of bringing him back to life after his tragic loss…


If anyone can save him, she’s the one
Jerrod Walters hopes relocating to the coastal town of Two Moon Bay can be the fresh start he and his young daughter need. But the single dad is caught off guard when a beautiful PR professional offers to promote his diving excursions to legendary shipwreck sites. There’s so much he admires about Dawn Larson, starting with the woman’s upbeat, can-do personality. Dawn’s boundless capacity for joy might be the only thing capable of bringing him back to life after his tragic loss...
After a childhood spent on Chicago’s sandy beaches, VIRGINIA MCCULLOUGH moved to a rocky island in Maine, where she began writing magazine articles. She soon turned to coauthoring and ghostwriting nonfiction books, and eventually began listening to the fictional characters whispering in her ear. Today, when not writing stories, Virginia likes to wander the world.
To contact the author, please visit www.virginiamccullough.com (http://www.virginiamccullough.com), or find her on Twitter, @vemccullough (https://twitter.com/vemccullough), and Facebook, www.Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7 (https://www.facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7).
Also By Virginia McCullough
Girl in the Spotlight
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Something to Treasure
Virginia McCullough


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08086-6
SOMETHING TO TREASURE
© 2018 Virginia McCullough
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“I like you, Jerrod. I get the sense you like me.”
Dawn shook her head. “What I mean is, are we ever going to acknowledge this thing between us?”
His head jerked back. In an instant, the air around her changed. The sound of the waves lapping the shore grew louder.
“Say something, will you?” Was he going to leave her standing there feeling like a fool?
“I don’t know what to say, except that I’m sorry.” He took a couple of steps away from her. “You don’t want to like me in any way other than as a client and casual friend.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. In an instant that old saw had popped into her head. Why? Maybe because she was trembling and wasn’t thinking straight. But the adage fit. She’d taken a chance and might as well commit to it all the way. “Is that so? Well, then tell me, why is that?”
“Because the good things about you don’t make up for what’s missing in me.”
Dear Reader (#ua16373bd-4ee7-5463-8d75-f1dc24fc31a9),
Welcome back to Two Moon Bay, Wisconsin, a small town on Lake Michigan. In Something to Treasure, the town is a place where both a newcomer and a longtime resident hope to find the changes and challenges they’ve been seeking. I’m delighted to offer a new look at the town so many readers were drawn to in my debut Harlequin Heartwarming book, Girl in the Spotlight.
Something to Treasure is about valuing the past and learning from the tragedies and losses it sometimes leaves us with. Two single parents, Jerrod and Dawn, meet when each is at a crossroads. Will they stay stuck in the past, or will they find the courage to take a chance on the future? Dawn and Jerrod’s story is about the fragility and strength of family bonds, the value of friendships and community, and a belief in possibilities.
Enjoy Something to Treasure, a story of hope, healing and second chances. I hope you’ll visit my website and sign up for my mailing list at www.virginiamccullough.com (http://www.virginiamccullough.com), or find me on Twitter, @vemccullough (https://twitter.com/vemccullough), and Facebook, www.Facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7 (https://www.facebook.com/virginia.mccullough.7).
To Happy Endings,
Virginia McCullough
For my two grandsons, CJ and Kyle, adventurers in training.
Contents
Cover (#u1dea19de-7178-5b14-8b9f-eda568e9fb6d)
Back Cover Text (#u1b5adffc-5428-5b15-ae3e-8791d867a1f8)
About the Author (#u7496db77-c4ad-558c-8315-ac5974a67bf9)
Booklist (#uef8cbbd2-4c9c-527a-9597-8d622a73b769)
Title Page (#ubc9d3003-acf5-5209-89a5-48192df61a6d)
Copyright (#u67f2a1f6-746f-59f6-964f-307d93769355)
Introduction (#ub57b913e-74ff-5b1d-8aea-b1bed2e791fc)
Dear Reader (#u26d90bce-3c7d-5cb5-9b79-7e7ec5927ef3)
Dedication (#ubaf14789-f36b-5ba1-9517-34456a131e61)
Chapter One (#ud27768b0-06de-5a23-a199-b3c2903fd55c)
Chapter Two (#u7607cfc6-ea23-5923-bacd-7604edce60c6)
Chapter Three (#uca5b4152-e967-5366-8521-28d7fcc778ea)
Chapter Four (#udd279df4-4f51-56ec-b0c6-00b8c6afe53f)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract
Chapter One (#ua16373bd-4ee7-5463-8d75-f1dc24fc31a9)
CLUTCHING THE WOODEN plaque to her chest, Dawn Larsen laughed with joy at the sound of applause, along with the loud chant, “Speech, speech, speech.” Tingling with excitement, and almost reeling from a jolt of nervous energy, Dawn stepped up to the microphone to give her colleagues what they demanded.
“And to think I almost didn’t come to the conference this weekend.” She grinned at Barb, the conference chair and her good friend, who stood to the side of the podium. “But thanks to Barb, I’m here. She’s encouraged me every step of the way.”
Dawn held up the plaque and turned it so the audience could see the engraving: Outstanding Public Relations Campaign of the Year. “My clients, the owners of the party planning business, get some credit, too. Party Perfect is a great firm and a joy to promote. And this award is especially gratifying because my peers in public relations have honored me in this way.”
“Two firsts for you this weekend, Dawn,” Barb said, coming to stand next to her. “Your first conference presentation and your first award.”
Once again, the one hundred or so attendees broke into applause. Dawn took that as a signal to end her speech and called out, “Thanks again, everyone.” She gave the audience a quick wave and went to her seat at the panelists’ table, still in shock over receiving the award.
Barb quickly gave the group a rundown of the afternoon programs and then directed everyone to tables in the hall set up for their afternoon coffee break. “I’ll check out the snacks for us,” Barb said before heading out of the meeting room.
Her face still warm with excitement, Dawn stayed put. She wasn’t finished coming down to earth. Gradually, though, her heartbeat slowed and she began to feel like herself again.
She even tried to wiggle her toes inside her black high heels. If her feet could speak, though, they’d beg to be set free from the prison of the shoes. But then she ran her fingers down her opposite arm, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric of her new spring green suit. She chose the perfect color for her fair skin, and for this very occasion, her debut as a speaker at this professional conference. A milestone for Dawn. The award was the icing on the cake.
Finally, her attention back in the present, Dawn noticed a woman lingering in the room. She was occupying herself with looking out the meeting room window. Not much to see from the twenty-third floor, since the glass was being pelted with sleet that blocked the view of Lake Michigan. This April storm had started about the time Dawn had backed out of the driveway of her house in Two Moon Bay, Wisconsin, almost two days ago.
“Hi,” Dawn called out to the tiny older woman with a halo of salt-and-pepper curls. And who was wearing sensible flats, too.
“Hi, yourself,” she said, turning away from the window and approaching the table. “I’m Kym Nation. An old friend of Barb’s. Congratulations on your award, and that terrific talk. And I hung back in the room because I wanted to ask you about that town you’re from.”
Dawn shook the woman’s outstretched hand, amused at the teasing sparkle in Kym’s eyes. She pointed to a chair at the now empty panelists’ table. “Have a seat and tell me what you’d like to know about my corner of the world.”
Kym plunked a thick portfolio on the table. She folded one leg under her as she settled in the chair. “So, you really are from that place with the outrageously cute name, Two Moon Bay?”
Dawn chuckled at Kym’s mock skepticism. “I am, indeed. But people usually call the town’s name charming—or romantic and alluring. Not cute.”
Swatting the air, Kym said, “I know, I’m just joshing you a little. Couldn’t resist.” Her expression becoming serious, she added, “You see, not long ago, I talked to an old acquaintance of mine. He was telling me about his plan to relocate to Two Moon Bay—I had to get my road atlas out and find out where it was.” She paused. “That was a couple of months ago. He might even be there as we speak.”
“Really? Does he happen to have a business?” Dawn asked, more as a joke from one businesswoman to another than a serious question.
“As a matter of fact, he has a tourist business...diving and water tours,” Kym said. “I knew him a few years back when I was based in Key West. We’ve stayed in touch—the occasional phone calls and emails, that sort of thing. He contacted me because he needs some promo help. Brochures, ads, feature stories. And that’s just a start.”
“Tell me more,” Dawn said, curious about the newcomer to her hometown. “It’s true, the party planners are terrific clients, but I’m looking for some fresh challenges.”
“Well, okay, then,” Kym said, her features animated. “He runs scuba diving excursions and much tamer water tours for kids and older folks—anyone of any age who doesn’t want to dive but would like to spend a little time out on a boat. He told me he leased dock space up in Two Moon Bay. He plans to take divers out to some legendary shipwrecks off the coast. That’s his specialty, shipwrecks.” Kym’s eyes sparkled. “I didn’t know there were any wrecks up your way?”
Playfully taking the bait, Dawn held up her left hand and ran her opposite index finger along the outside of her thumb. “People describe Wisconsin like a mitten, and this is the peninsula that forms the thumb. Two Moon Bay is along the lower edge of the peninsula. And there are shipwrecks up and down the whole coast—in all the Great Lakes, as a matter of fact.” She made big circles in the air with her index finger.
Kym threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. Seems he was raised on one of those lakes and had relatives who worked on boats way back when. Must have sparked something in him, because he’s been exploring shipwrecks all over the world for years now.”
“Was he a client of yours?” Dawn asked.
Kim paused, frowning. “Not exactly. He had a couple of dive boats in Key West back when my husband and I ran a tourist information kiosk near the docks.” She rubbed at what seemed like an imaginary spot on the back of her hand. Without looking up, she said, “We got to know all the folks doing tours and such.”
Why the hesitation, and why so serious all of a sudden?
“My ex-husband and I got our scuba diving certifications at home and then did some diving in the Caribbean on a vacation once.” Dawn left her discussion of diving at that. Otherwise, she might have meandered into unpleasant memories. She’d only mentioned it to reassure Kym she had what it took to promote a marine business. She trembled a bit inside, but brushed the negative memories out of her mind.
Scuba aside, promoting an outdoor venture appealed, especially now that the cold Midwest winter would soon give way to spring. It wouldn’t be long before the orchards transformed the landscape into clouds of pink and white blossoms and tourists flocked to town.
“We have kayaking and diving businesses operating on the shore in Wisconsin all summer.” In a deliberately amused tone, she added, “By the way, Kym, you wouldn’t believe the number of books written about shipwrecks—just in Lake Michigan alone.”
“So, is it okay if I pass on your information?” Kym patted her portfolio. “I already picked up your press kit off the display table.”
“By all means,” she said. “I’d be happy to talk to your friend. What’s his name?”
Kym stared out into the empty room. “Jerrod Walters.”
Dawn waited, sensing Kym was gathering her thoughts.
“Uh, I don’t want to overstate this, but he’s not...” Kym paused. “He’s not an exuberant kind of guy.”
Hmm...what did that mean? “Could you elaborate on that a little?”
Keeping her gaze lowered, Kym fidgeted with a corner of her portfolio. “Let’s just say he’s known some trouble.”
Dawn released the breath she’d been holding and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s a good thing that’s not a disqualifier. I’ve had a spot of trouble now and again myself.” She expected to see Kym smile at that, but she didn’t.
Despite the woman’s somber expression, Dawn wouldn’t second-guess a referral just yet. Even one new client could mean a solid return on the investment she’d made to come to this conference. Besides, much as she’d enjoyed working with Party Perfect, the thought of a guy with an adventure business whetted her appetite. Hadn’t she come to the conference because she wanted to stretch professionally? This might be the opportunity she’d been looking for.
* * *
JERROD WALTERS PROPPED up the picture of a wooden steamship, the Franklin Stone, against the wall at the end of the table. He’d had the poster-size print of the 280-foot ship framed and it would soon hang in his office in Two Moon Bay. The original oil painting had never been considered a masterpiece. Far from it. An art critic would laugh at the amateurish rendering of the people and the landscape. But Jerrod didn’t care about any of that. The painting showed the steamship burning like a giant torch out in the lake. Men in two lifeboats were rowing to shore and a smaller boat was headed out to meet them. Jerrod could put himself in that painting and play any of the roles, from the captain who’d ordered the ship abandoned to the fisherman on the shore who spotted the distant flames and rowed out to see if he could lend a hand.
Jerrod knew many facts about the Franklin Stone but hadn’t seen her yet. Few people had, since what was left of her sat on the bottom of the lake sixty feet below the surface. This legendary wreck would soon be the primary site of his diving excursions in his new location. What better way to introduce the site than to have a poster showing what destroyed the ship mounted on the office wall?
A pile of old books about shipping on the Great Lakes sat next to his open laptop, but he picked them up and moved them to a box on the floor. If he kept them in his sight he’d be tempted to lose the day to marine history. Lose another day was more like it. Much as he wanted to keep reading about grain and iron ore tonnage transported on the Great Lakes in the early 1900s, he had a more pressing task.
He rolled his office chair a few feet to his right and spread out the dive site map and navigation chart. He needed to double-check the accuracy of the distances and location of the site map against the course he laid out on the chart showing a section of Lake Michigan surrounding the Door Peninsula. He’d chosen the Franklin Stone because it had all the elements he needed. First, it was well-known by historians and shipwreck divers alike. Resting in only sixty feet of water, newly certified divers could gain a little experience without committing a lot of time. Finally, it was the right distance from the shore of the popular tourist town, Two Moon Bay, to take divers for short day trips. Later, if this new arm of his adventure business panned out, he could add sites at greater depths and distances from shore. Even weekend trips could be part of his future in Wisconsin, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.
Jerrod had also settled on a second shipwreck, the eighty-foot schooner Alice Swann, not as exciting, but closer to shore in about eighteen feet of water. Some divers bypassed the boat trip and visited the site from the shore, walking in fins until they were able to swim and snorkel the rest of the way. That was certainly possible, but not how he chose to lead his diving excursions.
He eyed the reference book he’d been using to write the script for the day tours he’d run on a converted ferry. If he were a guy prone to easy laughter, he’d certainly laugh at himself. The outside world thought of the physical demands of diving, never the quiet preparation. Looking at him, they’d see an adventurer who’d traveled the world and had trained others to explore reefs and wrecks. But Jerrod liked to think of himself as an amateur archeologist. The site map grids were almost like those used to explore ruins of lost cities. The ships that fascinated him most were indeed like lost cities in miniature.
For sure, his academic interest in the history and lore of commercial shipping on the Great Lakes wasn’t what had built his reputation or his business. He was known for big-sea diving in Key West and the Virgin Islands—and for a time, Thailand. Now, in a matter of weeks, he’d begin taking people down to visit these bones of ships at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
New location, new start. That was the plan.
Although difficult to admit, neglect had led to a shrinking business. At one point, he’d faced the crossroads. He either had to reverse the downward trend of his business or give it up altogether. He’d chosen to stick with what he knew and loved and had launched an aggressive plan to breathe new life into his Key West location. Then he’d added his Two Moon Bay plan to satisfy his own need for a new direction.
As he studied the site map, Jerrod’s thoughts drifted back to the days when diving had dominated everything, including his family life. Adventure Dives & Water Tours had offered both diving trips and sightseeing tours and was more successful than he’d ever imagined. But in a flash, that had all changed, and for a couple of years, he’d let much of the business he’d built crumble around him. It was kept alive only because he had such an able crew. But with renewed resolve, he was approaching his scattered life as if it were a jigsaw puzzle, and it was time to make the pieces fit together again.
Pushing away from the table, Jerrod stood and grabbed a thick envelope off the nightstand. It contained the handful of listing sheets for rental houses. The cramped hotel suite in Chicago he currently called home motivated him to find two summer rental houses in Two Moon Bay. He needed one house for himself, his little girl, Carrie, and her nanny, Melody, and a second for his crew, Wyatt and Rob.
Maybe being settled in a real home would do the trick and wipe out the lingering anxiety over his new direction. In his rational mind he was certain he’d made the right decisions, but on some days, he had trouble making his heart understand.
His buzzing phone signaled a text from Melody. He read it quickly, to be sure it was just a routine check-in and nothing urgent. Melody and Carrie had left the zoo and would stop for lunch at their new favorite hole-in-the-wall to get a couple of Chicago’s famous hot dogs before coming back to the hotel.
Jerrod smiled to himself. When the rain had stopped, Carrie, who’d celebrated her fifth birthday only last month with a trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo, had wanted to go visit her animal friends. She couldn’t get enough of the zoo families—giraffes, chimpanzees, even lions—that lived in the zoo less than a mile away from the hotel.
Fortunately, the rain and bluster had left them with a cloudy but dry late Saturday afternoon that made it possible for the zoo trip. Jerrod shook his head sadly. In order to give Carrie a real home again, rather than this residential hotel, he’d need to uproot her once more. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, not as long as she still had Melody, who, lucky for him, was willing to make the move with him and Carrie.
In spite of losses and changes no child should have to endure, Carrie was a lively little girl, about as well-adjusted as Jerrod could imagine. That was great, but he was still finding his way to healing from the past. Carrie was the most important part of his present. More than anything he had left in the world, she was his heart.
His phone alerted him to a new email. Nice surprise, he thought when he saw the name, Kym Nation, his old friend. In his mind’s eye, he could see Kym’s welcoming face as she greeted tourists and encouraged them to explore Key West. She and her husband had worked side by side in a kiosk and promoted every Hemingway tour and shrimp shack the iconic little city offered. But they’d eventually gone home to landlocked Kansas City.
Kym’s message delivered exactly what he wanted to hear:
Ran into a PR consultant today—lives in that 2 moon town you told me about. How ’bout that? Heard her speak on a panel this morning. Impressive, experienced, familiar with diving. She won an award for her work, too. A dazzler. Call her.
Kym had included this award-winning dazzler’s name, Dawn Larsen, her email address and a phone number.
The message immediately lifted his mood. She no doubt had her reasons for throwing in that bit about Dawn Larsen being a dazzler. She’d known Augusta, Jerrod’s wife, and Dabny, his older daughter, long before Jerrod had lost them both. He’d stayed in touch with Kym and Guy, who regularly expressed their concerns about how he was recovering—or not—from the tragedy that left him to raise Carrie alone.
Jerrod could read between the lines. Kym believed this dazzler was a woman he just might like. No matter how hard they tried, his friends couldn’t perform the miracle it would take for him to open his heart to another woman. Ever. On the other hand, he was a man of action, and he needed public relations help...now. He called the number Kym provided. Irrationally, his energy dropped a notch when he reached Dawn Larsen’s voice mail, but he followed through and left a message asking her to return his call.
What had he expected, anyway? That she’d pick up on the first ring? Kym had only met this woman that day at the conference. Kym didn’t know he was still in Chicago. Even he’d expected to be settled into Two Moon Bay by now. But finding the right tour and dive boats had taken longer than he’d planned. Meanwhile, the search for housing went on. Too bad he couldn’t hire Kym herself. She’d made a successful transition from being a Key West booster to an independent PR consultant in Kansas.
Grabbing his jacket, he headed out of the hotel and down Clark Street toward the hot dog place a block away where he’d find Carrie and Melody. His little girl spotted him as he entered the restaurant, but not before he’d had a chance to take in the vision of his child with her dark hair in two long braids. She was swinging her sneakered feet from the molded plastic bench of the booth. A basket of fries sat in front of her, along with a squeeze bottle of ketchup.
“Hi, Daddy.” She raised her hand and waved. “We’re having hot dogs. Want one?” She scooted over to make room for him and patted the seat the way he did when he wanted her to sit next to him.
He gave her a one-arm shoulder hug and kissed the top of her head, but moved his upper body just in time to avoid the smear of ketchup getting ready to transfer from her mouth to his jacket. “As a matter of fact, baby, that’s why I’m here. Melody sent me a text saying you were stopping for lunch.” He made a show of studying the counter. “Do you think they have any hot dogs left?”
She craned her neck to look behind him. “I think so—better hurry.”
His phone chimed the familiar melody of the old Jimmy Buffet song about a lovely cruise. He kept it on his phone because Carrie knew all the words. Her favorite line was about the sailors having water in their shoes.
Sure enough, Dawn Larsen’s name appeared on the screen. Holding up one finger to Melody to indicate he needed to take the call, Jerrod stepped outside.
“Hello, Ms. Larsen. Thanks for returning my call.”
“Dawn, please.”
A light, pleasant, voice—he was grateful. “Well, by any name you come highly recommended. My pal Kym Nation is your newest fan.”
“I feel the same way about her, and she thinks the world of you.” She paused. “I understand your plans for shipwreck diving excursions are well underway. So, you’ve already moved into your dock space in Two Moon Bay?”
He pressed his finger over his other ear to block out the street noise. “Not quite. Only one of my two boats is up in Two Moon Bay. I’m still in Chicago, where I’ve been outfitting the tour boat. My crew is bringing her up in a few days. Admittedly, my time line is short.” No sense trying to make excuses for it, either, he thought. “You see, I made the decision to open a Great Lakes location only a couple of months ago. That means I’m still a stranger in the area. But I got in under the wire and bought some ad space in some of your local tourist papers. It’s a start, but obviously, I need a lot more.”
“I’d be happy to listen to your plans and see how I might be able to help you. I’m curious about your business, of course.”
Businesslike, professional, Jerrod thought, and he had a hunch Dawn meant what she said. “If you have time, I could come to your hotel and meet you for a cup of coffee. I realize you’re busy at the conference, so I’ll understand if that’s not possible. Kym had high praise for the talk you gave about one of your successful campaigns.”
“It was great fun,” Dawn said, “but between you and me, Kym inspired everyone, too. She just finished a speech about the need for professional reinvention when life intervenes. I think we learn more from each other’s stories than we do from flowcharts and ten-point strategies.”
True, Jerrod agreed. He was up for hearing someone else’s stories. He’d become sick and tired of his own.
“I’m going on and on a bit here,” Dawn said with a lilt in her voice, “so I’ll get to the point. The conference ends tomorrow at one, and I’ll have a little time before I need to catch my train. Any chance you can come around that time? We could talk before I grab a cab and head to Union Station.”
“Sounds doable,” he said, trying to hold back his sudden and inexplicable eagerness to sit down and talk to her. “Why don’t I meet you in the lobby by the registration desk around one fifteen or so? I’ll check your website, so I’ll know what you look like.”
“That’s good...uh, I was going to say I’ll be the woman with the rolling suitcase, but since this is a hotel, that’s not particularly helpful,” she said, her tone breezy. “I’ll be the one with the short strawberry blonde hair. And I won’t be wearing high heels.”
“I will check the shoes of everyone in the lobby until I find you, Dawn.” Where had that little one-liner come from? He didn’t know, but he instantly felt lighter, almost buoyant. But then he winced against the screech of a bus braking up at the stoplight on the corner not far away. “The traffic noise is bad. I better go. See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it, Jerrod.”
The call ended, and he went back inside, conscious of his better mood. First, because of Carrie. There she was, cheerful and happy in a beat-up old plastic booth dipping fries in ketchup and still swinging her legs. And Dawn had amused him, too, with her melodic laugh and lack of pretention.
When he slid into the booth, Melody pushed his basket of food in front of him. “Here, we ordered for you. Better eat while it’s still hot.”
“Hey, cutie,” he said to Carrie. “Could be I found someone who can help me get some passengers for the trips to shipwrecks I was telling you about.”
“I saw the pictures of those boats,” Carrie told Melody. “They’re really old, just like in Key West, and they broke into lots of pieces.”
“They don’t get too many visitors, either, or so I hear.” Melody turned down the corners of her mouth. “They must be lonely out there in the cold lake all by themselves.”
Carrie shrugged and dipped another fry in the ketchup. “Could be.”
Apparently, lonely shipwrecks weren’t as alluring as lunch.
“So, you found a PR person?” Melody asked.
“A possibility. We’ll see. She was referred by someone I knew years ago. I’m meeting her at her hotel tomorrow. Best of all, she lives in Two Moon Bay.”
Melody’s eyes opened in surprise. “Cool. I hope it works out.”
“Me, too.” He didn’t want to be dramatic, but the success of his new direction and the safe and secure life he wanted to create for Carrie could depend on getting this venture off the ground.
Chapter Two (#ua16373bd-4ee7-5463-8d75-f1dc24fc31a9)
ONCE SHE AND JERROD had settled into a couple of chairs in a quiet corner of the lobby, Dawn pulled out her notebook and pen. “I’m ready to work,” she said.
“Is that really a pen? And actual paper, too?” Jerrod asked. “How old school of you.”
She tapped the end of the pen against her temple. “Maybe so, but this is where it all begins. The computer folders and files and spreadsheets are launched in phase two.” She grinned. “I just made that up.”
Suddenly, she wished she’d accepted Jerrod’s offer of coffee. She could have used something to distract her from the man himself. She’d found him online, of course, and Jerrod had looked very good in his website photo. But it didn’t do him justice. Not even close. She guessed him to be around her age, maybe closer to forty, as opposed to her thirty-six. His almost-black hair showed no hint of gray to match his penetrating, but solemn gray eyes. Because of the nature of his business, she expected a guy with weathered, rugged looks. His open, unlined face had immediately thrown her at first. The tall, lean man in a fisherman’s knit sweater and jeans would have looked at home in a courtroom or maybe a classroom.
She’d come into the meeting wary, because a few red flags already waved and grabbed her attention. The oddly outdated website. Articles posted there were at least three years old. He had no active social media. Despite his up-to-date appearance, his promotion plan, such as it was, came out of the last decade. She hadn’t done a complete search. That could wait, but still, it was a little strange.
Jerrod leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Why don’t I fill you in on the background of the business?”
She nodded, eager to stop thinking about how appealing he was and get down to the nitty-gritty of the meeting. For the next few minutes, she took notes about his fifteen-year-old business, headquartered in Key West, but sometimes working from outposts in St. Thomas and even as far away as Thailand.
“And you want to expand into the fairly small shipwreck diving market in the Great Lakes?” Dawn asked. Somehow, Two Moon Bay seemed an odd place to branch out, especially for someone with his extensive experience in tropical waters.
“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn, it’s an experiment. I...uh...lost my wife a couple of years ago, which led to cutting back my role in the business. My diving guides and the crew carried on at our home base in Florida. They kept us going. But I’ve recommitted to the business and I’m responsible for launching the changes it needs.”
That sounded reasonable enough, except...what? Why Wisconsin, why the Lakes? “Moving your company to the chilly Great Lakes is a big change. Especially for shipwreck diving,” she said. “It certainly exists up my way, but the summers are pretty short.”
“True, but my hometown is Erie, Pennsylvania. I grew up on the water.”
Dawn spent the next several minutes scribbling background information about the stories Jerrod grew up on, including his great-grandfather’s life on barges and ore boats on the lakes.
“Even as a kid I was caught up in the image of shipping in the area. My dad always said it was part of settling the whole country and making us rich.” Jerrod raised his hands in the air for emphasis.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Dawn said in a wry tone, noting the change in his expression. Finally, she’d managed to bring a smile to his face.
“I was fascinated with shipwrecks, too, which is why they’ve figured into the kind of diving business my wife and I created.”
My wife and I created. A partnership based on adventure? He’d piqued her curiosity. The more Jerrod talked, the more Dawn’s vision of a PR program for him expanded to include interviews and speaking engagements. Only a few of her clients were good media guests and public speakers. Jerrod might be one of them. His deep voice was matched with an easy manner of bantering back and forth. She was certain he could handle interviews and speeches. He already was a walking encyclopedia of the shipwrecks in Lake Michigan. But he’d be even better if more enjoyment or happiness came through. Hmm...she couldn’t coach that.
“So, do you think you can help me?” Jerrod asked. “I know I still have loose ends, but I’ll do what it takes to kick-start the season.”
And it would take a major push. Dawn liked the sense of bubbling excitement inside her. She’d asked for a challenge. Jerrod’s business was certainly that.
“Fortunately, I’ve got experienced diving guides and crew. You’ll get to know them, but they handle a lot of the desk work, the customer service end. Also, Wyatt is one of my instructors and guides, but she’s willing to help me create a new website.”
Wyatt, a woman, Dawn wrote in the margin on her page, along with notes about Jerrod’s short-term plans. It was only a matter of days before he and his crew would arrive in Two Moon Bay.
“Until I nail down the summer housing situation,” Jerrod said, “we’ll be staying in a place called, if you can believe it, The Sleepy Moon Inn.”
Amused, Dawn said, “Of course I believe it. The Sleepy Moon Inn is the town’s newest hotel.” She cocked her head. “You see, we have a law that you have to refer to the moon in any business name in town.”
“Kind of like Hemingway and Key West.”
She nodded. “Exactly. As it happens, though, the Half Moon Café is one of the best restaurants in town. Don’t write it off as a tourist trap.” Dawn gathered her thoughts. She had a hunch Jerrod might misunderstand Two Moon Bay. “Visitors give the place a chance because of its obvious theme, but as you’ll see, they stay or come back because they like the kind of town it is. It was once a fishing haven, but now it’s a tourist hub that local people enjoy.” She could have listed a few points, but she’d wait until he was in town and let him see for himself. Or not.
“I’ll remember that,” Jerrod said, his expression warm and thoughtful.
Dawn shifted in her chair and went back to her notes, a feeble attempt to quell her rising excitement about the prospects of working with Jerrod. He was a mystery, though. Details were sketchy about the last couple of years since he’d lost his wife. His business had continued. Barely, even by his own admission.
“If Wyatt has any trouble nailing down the housing you need, let me know,” she said. “I have a couple of friends who might be able to offer suggestions.”
He nodded his thanks. “Speaking of that, what do you think I need to get my venture off the ground, even this late? Give me the bare bones.”
A dizzying number of ideas raced through her head. Since anything she said could be altered later, she tapped her pen on the notepad and began reading from her hastily scribbled list, starting with brochures right up to an attempt to start up a social media campaign.
“You’re a natural for a blog. There’s the basic allure of shipwrecks.” She looked up from her notes. “You know what I mean. Barnacled ships and colorful fish.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re a poet, huh? I’m going to steal that last line and use it somewhere.”
“I guess it came out that way, didn’t it?” Barnacled ships and colorful fish indeed!
“One of the best things we do on our day tours is take guests back in time, give them a sense of history,” Jerrod said. “We’ve done well with both the diving and the day trips because they satisfy natural curiosity about the past.”
It struck Dawn that other than laughing at her poetic line and the occasional faint smile, his expression didn’t change much. Still, despite the serious—cerebral—way he’d approached their meeting, Dawn had no trouble envisioning Jerrod running a group dive or narrating a tour. Thinking of Two Moon Bay, she easily pictured him in the reception hall at the yacht club after a talk. She wrote a reminder to touch base with her contacts at yacht clubs and libraries throughout the peninsula. They were always looking for people who could do programs about local history or lore or things going on in the area.
When Kym first mentioned Jerrod, Dawn knew she was capable of promoting a diving excursion business without being drawn to scuba diving herself. She had no intention of sampling the diving excursions. Not on her life. But so far, nothing Jerrod had said about his business made her doubt her ability to do a good job for him.
Jerrod pointed to her notebook. “So, you got enough out of my rambling to organize a PR program?”
“Absolutely. Especially since you realize you’re off to a late start. Typically, I’d have started planning to establish a business like yours last fall, January at the latest. Oh, I can pull a few strings with editors and advertising departments and call in a favor or two.” She shrugged. “I bring local publications a fair amount of business.”
“I get it,” Jerrod said, staring out into the lobby. “It’s good to be so well connected.”
Dawn followed his gaze, but she saw he wasn’t staring at anything in particular. He had lost himself in his own world of thought. But when she caught a glimpse of his watch, she jolted into high alert. She stuffed her notebook in her bag and scooted to the edge of the chair. If his watch was right, she barely had enough time to get to Union Station.
“I’m sorry to cut this short.” She stood and grabbed her coat. “I should have checked the time, but I got caught up in all the ideas popping in my brain. We’ll need to finish this on the phone. Right now, I need to hustle to catch my train—it leaves in about twenty-five minutes.”
“So sorry, Dawn,” he said, getting to his feet. “My questions kept coming up nonstop, and I never thought about the time.”
As they hurried through the lobby to the revolving doors, Dawn saw Jerrod pull cash from his pocket and assumed it was to tip the doorman. She started to protest that she could handle the tip herself, but she didn’t bother. She was impressed that he’d thought of it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss details,” Jerrod said after he told the doorman they needed two cabs. “We never got to your fee, but we can settle that in the morning. We’re planning to move into The Sleepy Moon Inn by the end of the week.” He held out his hand. “So, can we shake on a deal, and tomorrow we’ll finalize our terms?”
Running late or not, Dawn stifled a strong urge to dance a jig right there on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Instead, she took his outstretched hand. It was reassuring and he held it firmly for just the right amount of time. She was thrilled to have a new project. No, not any project, this one. With him. Her conference fee and the hefty hotel bill had paid off. But it wasn’t only about the money. Jerrod himself had an intriguing air about him. Not the warm-and-fuzzy type, maybe, but worldly and serious.
When a taxi pulled up, the doorman opened the back seat door for her while Jerrod rolled her suitcase to the car so the driver could put it in the trunk. When he reappeared, he put his hand to his ear as if holding a phone and again said, “I’ll call you.” He backed away and waved.
As the cab pulled away from the curb, she checked the dashboard clock. Only twenty minutes until her train pulled out of Union Station. Why hadn’t she paid attention? Because she’d been stimulated and focused, her brain occupied with ticking off ideas. The ability to block out distractions was one of her strengths. It served her well, except when it backfired. Like now.
Why was the cab creeping along, coming to a full stop, then swerving out from behind one bus and then another? It was Sunday, after all, not rush hour on a Monday morning. Suddenly anxious, she repeated familiar clichés in her mind about worrying being useless, a waste of time. But her self-talk was a bigger waste of time. She went right back to willing the cab to speed up. The driver threaded through streets at normal speed when possible, but slammed on the brakes when he couldn’t run a yellow light or was forced to a sudden stop because a pair of red rear lights appeared perilously close.
It wasn’t the driver’s or Jerrod’s fault. It was hers alone. When the cab pulled up to the curb in front of Union Station, she reached into her pocket and brought out cash, but the driver waved his index finger back and forth. “No, no, no.” In his lilting accent, he told her the gentleman at the hotel had paid the fare.
When had he done that? Must have been when he rolled her suitcase to the trunk. With theatrical flourish, the driver lifted her suitcase from the trunk like it was a bag of feathers and wheeled it to the revolving door. He touched his fingertips to his cap and hurried back to his cab before she could tip him. Jerrod must have taken care of that, too.
She rushed into the station and onto the escalator. On the lower level, she checked for the track number on the departure board and broke into a jog. She picked up even more speed as she passed the deserted glassed-off waiting area. When she got to a set of double doors, she saw the track, as empty as the waiting room. And what could she expect? She was nearly ten minutes late. Stopping in place, she let out a loud sigh.
“Was that your train?” a man in an Amtrak uniform called out from a few tracks away.
“It sure was. I just missed it.”
He walked toward her, his expression sympathetic. “The next one leaves in two hours.”
Offering a weak smile in return, she muttered, “Thanks. I’ll be sure to be on it.”
She dreaded having to call her ex-husband, but she had no choice. He and his wife, Carla, were expecting her, but she’d be delayed now. Gordon, at thirteen, wouldn’t care. He was happy enough with spending time with Dad. Bill wouldn’t mind, either. But Carla? That could be another story.
It took only a minute to get Bill on the phone to deliver the bad news. “Long story short, I missed my train. Traffic downtown was heavier than usual. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be a couple of hours late picking up Gordon.”
“Okay, no problem,” Bill said, his voice friendly as usual. “We’ll see you when you get here.”
Easy enough. She exhaled and the anxiety dissipated in an instant. She nearly laughed out loud. “Thanks. I really am sorry.”
“Oh, wait...hang on a minute,” he said.
She heard two voices, but Bill was obviously trying to muffle the sound, so she couldn’t understand what was being said.
“Uh, Carla wanted me to ask if you’re certain you’ll get here tonight,” Bill said when he came back on the line.
She wouldn’t let her irritation bleed through. “I’ll be there, Bill. I had planned everything pretty much down to the minute. But the plan went awry. I can explain when I get there.”
“It’s just that Zinnie has been fussy the last few days. Carla thinks she’s teething. Gordon’s spent most of his time making faces to try to distract her.”
“Sounds nice, Bill,” she whispered. Unwittingly, he’d painted a simple picture of what was going on in his house, and she envied it all out of proportion. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
Why was she eating humble pie? Their arrangements almost always revolved around Carla, especially with the new baby. Not so new. She was already ten months old. And probably crawling into everything, Dawn thought, trying to be fair. But when it came to Bill and Carla, nothing seemed fair.
When she ended the call, Dawn walked to the waiting room and tried to recapture the excitement of the conference, especially winning an award. It was the first time she’d been recognized for work by her colleagues in the public relations industry. To top it off, she’d landed a new client, who also happened to be an interesting, attractive man. Well, more than that. Bringing his face to mind, movie star handsome seemed to fit. She gave her head a little chastising shake. Stop, stop it right now.
She opened her tablet and began transferring her handwritten notes and sprinkling in the new ideas springing into her head. She started a separate file for her estimates of Jerrod’s initial expenses, mainly the cost of the ads and his brochures. She sent an email to Ian Shepherd, the photographer she’d used for her fitness center client. She was crossing her fingers that he had some free hours in his schedule. He had a great eye for design and he’d done brochures for sleek sailboats, too.
The email to Ian sent, Dawn indulged in a grumpy sigh. She’d been “on” all weekend, but she’d run out of steam. Missing the train and the obligatory apology to Bill left her deflated. But then her thoughts flipped back to her meeting with Jerrod in the hotel lobby. He had such serious gray eyes, but they occasionally surprised her with flashes of warmth. Sure, he’d been all business in demeanor, but she’d enjoyed the easy way he answered her questions. And he’d showed hints of passion about his life on the water. Like it was a calling, not only a business. But what had happened to his wife, she wondered, and would he tell her?
When her thoughts circled back to the present, the letdown returned, particularly when it came to Bill and his cozy new life. He’d left her four years ago, announcing it one cold January night after what Dawn had naively believed were their best holidays ever, starting with the huge Thanksgiving open house for a few dozen family and friends and ending with a quiet New Year’s Eve spent with their next-door neighbors and their three kids.
No wonder she was surprised that night when Bill said he needed to talk. She’d only been mildly concerned when they sat down together at the kitchen table, because she’d assumed his mood had something to do with office politics. But, not wasting a second, Bill opened their conversation by saying, “I want a divorce.”
She froze in place, stunned and silent. When she at last found her voice the first words she uttered were, “But we’ve been talking about having a baby. A couple of weeks ago. In the car. It was Christmas Eve.”
Bill had run his fingers through his prematurely gray hair and did her the courtesy of confirming their conversation about a second child wasn’t a figment of her imagination. In fact, her desire to have another baby was why he considered it imperative to own up to what had happened. He’d fallen in love with Carla, a colleague at the insurance company where he worked as an actuary. He was sorry, he’d said. So sorry.
Right.
Dawn had descended into crushing grief, but ultimately worked through it and moved on with a vengeance, starting with her business. In the first twelve months of living as a single mom, she’d doubled her business income. In the second twelve months, she’d begun dating. Mixed results for sure, including with Chip, the man she’d hoped could be her second chance. At first, he’d claimed to be enthusiastic about having a child if their relationship blossomed, but he showed zero interest in Gordon. Not exactly stepdad material. She’d collected all the warning signs she needed, but it still hurt to give up on what at the beginning seemed like a promising relationship.
Sitting alone in the waiting room at the train station, she tried mightily to ignore those thoughts. For all her so-called adjustment to life after her difficult divorce, Dawn hadn’t allowed herself to think that Bill and Carla would have a baby of their own. Why had that been so difficult to accept?
As if she didn’t know.
Carla was living the life she’d wanted—expected—for herself. That was the heartbreaking truth. It was as if an imposter had stepped in and taken over Dawn’s life.
Tired of sitting, she stood and slung the attaché over her shoulder and left the waiting room. Still an hour to go. She needed to move, walk, observe, absorb. She wouldn’t lift her mood sitting alone, thinking about little teething Zinnie.
Chapter Three (#ua16373bd-4ee7-5463-8d75-f1dc24fc31a9)
HOLDING CARRIE’S HAND, Jerrod pointed to the boat tied up at the dock on the blustery April day. “See? Rob and Wyatt got here safe and sound.”
The two waved at Carrie from the stern of the Lucy Bee. Jerrod greeted Nelson White, the owner of the boatyard-marina, who he’d dealt with on the phone over a period of several weeks. Nelson stood at the end of the dock dressed for winter in a knit hat and heavy gloves. So far, Dawn’s weather prediction for the week had played out exactly as she’d described: cold and mostly rainy. Count on miserable, she’d warned Jerrod the day before he drove up and checked into the hotel. In his texted reply he’d teased her about being a meteorologist on the side. He enjoyed teasing her, maybe because she laughed so easily at even his lame remarks.
Nelson pointed to the Lucy Bee, a seventy-foot passenger ferry designed to take guests out on day tours along the coast and to the sites of wrecks. “Nice-looking,” he said. “We don’t have nearly enough of these excursion boats down our way. Most of them cluster up a little north of us in Sturgeon Bay. I’m glad to see you set up shop here in Two Moon Bay.”
Jerrod nodded, pleased at Nelson’s response. Lucy Bee had started her life as a ferry and later was converted to a tour boat on the Mississippi, but Jerrod liked to think he was giving the vessel a third incarnation on Lake Michigan. Rob suggested changing the boat’s name to something more distinguished, maybe, but Jerrod had nixed that idea. He didn’t consider himself a superstitious man, but as far back as he could remember he’d been warned that changing the name of a boat was asking for trouble. He couldn’t shake the notion that boats of any kind were alive in their way. That meant the Lucy Bee started her life with a name of her own, and that’s how it should stay.
“I’m eager to get the business moving,” Jerrod said, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head to ward off the rising wind. At least the rain had stopped for the moment.
Nelson motioned with his chin at the water. “All well and good, but you still have a few weeks before it’s fit to take people out there. It’s only April, man. It can be raw up here even in May. Most folks won’t put their boats in the water ’til close to Memorial Day.”
“I know. Dawn Larsen, who’s doing some promotion for me, warned me that the weather can be iffy all the way to Memorial Day and into June.” At Dawn’s suggestion, Jerrod was adding an all-caps line to his brochure about bringing along jackets and hats. Dawn suggested taking one more step and keeping a backup supply of sweatshirts and caps in a storage bin.
Nelson gestured to the empty space behind the tour boat. “When we get your dive boat in the water this afternoon, we’ll dock her right there. You’ll have easy-on, easy-off for both boats. You need anything, you know where to find me.”
Jerrod had the feeling Nelson would be as good as his word. Something about the down-to-earth guy reminded him of people he’d grown up with.
“Rob, Wyatt!” Carrie shouted. “I’m going to a new school.”
“So I heard,” Rob called back in a loud voice. “Very exciting, Miss Carrie.”
Her giggles instantly turned Jerrod’s heart to butter. Rob and Wyatt called her Miss Carrie precisely because it brought on her little-girl laughter. But then, he’d been able to count on his two younger crew, both not much over thirty. They’d been with him through these last years, the darkest time of his life. Wyatt, in particular, had used her business savvy to patch together a viable, if scaled-down version of Adventure Dives & Water Tours when Jerrod barely cared anymore. Rob made sure their equipment stayed top-of-the-line and their boats in good repair. The two had been the glue that held the operation together. Even more important, they acted like older siblings or aunt and uncle to Carrie, who had lost her big sister when she was too young to understand why.
Jerrod was suddenly conscious of Rob looking past him and down the dock. Pivoting on his heel, he saw Dawn coming toward him, dressed in practical jeans, a jacket and sneakers. But she had that large handbag slung over her shoulder, looking like a woman on a mission—an organized mission at that. They’d been in touch by email and text throughout the week, sending a letter of agreement and priority lists back and forth. Watching her shade her eyes as she approached, looking beyond him to the boat, he once again had the strong feeling he’d found exactly who he needed to help him launch this phase of his business. He’d had a specialty food basket sent to Kym as his way to say thanks.
Although Dawn hadn’t yet been formally introduced to his crew, she waved at Rob and Wyatt. Jerrod would handle the social rituals later, but he couldn’t help but notice the way Rob stared at her. Even from a distance he was certain her distinctive reddish blonde curly hair had caught Rob’s eye. And his crew member didn’t even know Dawn had the clearest light brown eyes he’d ever seen. Or maybe her eyes were green. He couldn’t be sure, but they were unusual—and, he’d learned, unforgettable.
Throughout their initial meeting, Jerrod had tried not to focus too much on Dawn’s natural beauty, but even her teal blue reading glasses added to her unique look. All week he’d made a studied effort not to be too eager for their next meeting. Knowing she was single wasn’t helping that effort, but even hinting that he found her attractive was out of the question. To a T, he fit the description of what many women feared: unavailable. In every way. It hadn’t been that long since he’d become a fully present dad again to his little girl.
“Hey, Nelson,” Dawn said, playfully elbowing the boatyard owner. “How are you doing? I haven’t run into you in a long time.”
“Good, good. So, you’re part of the welcome wagon,” Nelson observed.
“I am, and you’ll be seeing a lot of me down here at the docks.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nelson smacked his hands together. “How did I get so lucky?”
Jerrod snorted a laugh. As if this pretty woman would ever date an old-timer like Nelson.
“Hey, Nelson and I go way back,” she explained, casting Jerrod a distinct look that said “cool off.” “His grandson goes to school with my son. They hang out with the brainy kids who started a chess club.”
Embarrassed by his own ridiculous assumption, Jerrod decided his best bet was to say nothing.
Dawn crouched down in front of his daughter. “Let me guess. Is your name Carrie?”
His little girl nodded, not a bit shy. She tugged on Melody’s hand. “This is Melody. She takes care of me. She took me to my new school.”
“I’m sorry,” Jerrod said, “I didn’t get to all the introductions.”
As if wanting to be in the know, Carrie said, “Daddy, is this the lady who’s going to help you get customers on your boats?”
“Yes, she is. This is Ms. Dawn Larsen. Like I told you, she’s what people call a public relations consultant.” Carrie had no idea how much he needed Ms. Dawn Larsen, the pro.
“It’s fine if she calls me Dawn.” She peered down at Carrie and said. “I bet you’re about five years old. Am I right?”
Carrie nodded.
Jerrod looked on as his daughter told her new friend about the other kids at her morning preschool. Carrie didn’t know Dawn helped him find it. Thanks to her, two houses would also be available the next week, so his stay at The Sleepy Moon Inn would be short. Nice as it was in his spacious room, he was looking forward to feeling at least a little like he actually lived somewhere.
Waving goodbye, Nelson said, “Well, Jerrod, I leave you in good hands. Dawn can show you every inch of this town.”
After Nelson left, Wyatt and Rob joined them on the deck and Jerrod made the introductions. For him, it was like bringing Dawn into his family. Besides Carrie, Melody, Wyatt and Rob were the most important people in his life.
“Let me give you a quick overview of the immediate area,” she said to the assembled group. She started by explaining that the town’s waterfront was divided into two main parts. “We’re in the heart of the working waterfront now.” She waved toward a multi-floor storefront building set in a cluster of trees farther down the shore. “That’s Donovan’s Marine, the closest marine supply store. They either stock everything you’ll need or they’ll special order it.” She grinned at Jerrod. “The other day, I stopped in to see Art and Zeke Donovan, the father and son who own the business. I told them all about you.”
Dawn pointed to an area beyond the boatyard. “The yacht club is down that way, and you’ll also find a food market, a couple of restaurants and the Silver Moon Winery over there. There’s a playground in the big lakeshore park that connects to our downtown. People gather in the center of town all summer for various things. Most important of all, it’s where you’ll find the Bean Grinder, the busiest coffeehouse for miles. You can’t miss it—it’s in an old but refurbished octagonal building painted red.”
“I don’t think we’ll get lost,” Wyatt said with a grin. “I like that we can walk to most everything we need.”
“A trolley comes around, too, and stops at all the major landmarks and will let riders off in front of stores on Bay Street.”
Speaking directly to Carrie, she said, “I have to be going now, but I’m sure I’ll see you again soon. It was so nice to meet you—all of you.” She nodded at Melody and then at his crew. “Let me know if you need anything. If I can’t answer the question, I can find someone who can.”
Whoosh...that’s what he thought of when he realized she was hurrying off in the same energetic manner in which she’d come down the dock. Before she had a chance to rush off, Jerrod moved to her side and walked with her to the marina parking lot. “Uh, I need to talk with you about the diving excursions and what I’d like highlighted in the brochures to add to their appeal. Make them sound exciting. I’m wondering if we can meet soon. Maybe grab some coffee?”
He was about to suggest getting together later that day, but she pointed out that Ian was due the next morning to take preliminary photos of the boats. “That’s fine. I wanted to go over brochure ideas with both of you and direct some shots, anyway,” she said. “So, maybe we can find time after Ian has finished.” She knit her brows in thought. “I don’t have other appointments scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”
Her expression communicated that she’d already jumped ahead to her next stop of the day, probably another client meeting.
“That would be fine,” he said, resigned to wait.
“So, until tomorrow morning,” she said. “It’s sure to be a big day for your business.”
“Yes, thanks to you.”
“We’re a team,” she said, patting his upper arm, her face reddening a little. Her eyes softened when she added, “Before I forget to say this, Carrie is adorable—breathtaking, really.”
Thrown by her wistful tone, he muttered a quick thank you. But he doubted she’d heard him. She’d fixed her gaze on her car and was fidgeting with her keys. He stepped aside to give her space to get behind the wheel and start the engine. She quickly drove out of the spot without so much as a backward glance.
“See you tomorrow,” he murmured. He walked toward the office he’d rented in the square frame addition behind the marina. Her words about Carrie circled through his mind. Dawn wasn’t the first person to comment on his daughter’s charm, but usually the remarks were just part of casual social banter. Instead, real emotion had seeped into Dawn’s words about Carrie. In an instant, this woman he’d just met had touched his heart. Again. There was something wonderfully sunny about her. Even her hair, which brought to mind sunrises he’d seen all over the world, matched her personality.
Shaking his head, he whispered, “Not good, not good.”
* * *
DAWN TURNED DOWN Night Beach Road and pulled into Lark’s driveway. Not so long ago, Lark had lived in this compact cottage on the shore with her son, Evan. Not anymore. After marrying Miles last fall, what had been a small home for two was transformed into a large office—and a guest house when needed. Lark and Miles had bought a large waterfront home down the block, which led Lark to joke about her short commute. So many changes in her best friend’s life, Dawn thought, and she’d been right there with Lark personally and professionally.
She knocked on the cottage door before pushing it open and calling out, “Hey, Lark, I’m here.”
“Come on in,” Lark said. “Give me a second. I’m finishing up one last paragraph.”
Dawn spent much of her work life on the road seeing clients in their offices or shops or meeting with graphic artists, media professionals and visitors’ center staff throughout the region. On the other hand, Lark spent most of her days sitting at her computer writing articles on health care and parenting—and enjoying herself every bit as much as Dawn thrived on being on the go.
Dawn dropped her shoulder bag on the couch and shrugged out of her coat. Instantly at home in Lark’s cottage, she sniffed the air and immediately recognized the scent. Hazelnut. Lark knew it was one of her favorite coffee flavors. The pot and mugs were already on the coffee table.
“There,” Lark said. “The end... Well, not quite. It’s the end of the first draft, anyway.”
“The wordsmith is done for the day?”
“Not exactly. One interview to go. How about you?”
Dawn frowned, needing a minute to think. “Two strategy sessions on the phone.” She glanced at her watch. “I almost forgot.”
“Hmm... Is that because you’re preoccupied with your new client?” Lark asked in a light tone. “How did you describe him again? Good-looking, super fit, interesting, an adventurer. What more could a woman want?”
“Let’s put available at the top of that wish list.” Dawn made an effort to keep her voice light. “I met Melody today, who could be his much younger partner, as well as the little girl’s nanny. Hard to tell. And then there’s Wyatt.”
“Wyatt?”
“She’s one of his crew, but maybe she’s his girlfriend.” She threw up her hands. “I know next to nothing about the man’s private life. Matter of fact, I don’t know all that much about his business yet, either. We’re meeting tomorrow, so I expect to pick up more of the flavor of what he does.”
Lark came out from behind her desk, tablet in hand, and sat in one of the reading chairs in what had once been the living room.
“There’s something closed off about him, though,” Dawn said, thinking about his somber expressions. “He mentioned losing his wife, and that’s as far as it went.”
There was more to it than that, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Seeing Jerrod’s daughter only reminded Dawn of a recent painful memory. On Sunday, when she’d stopped to pick up Gordon, Bill had opened the front door and stepped back so she could come inside the entryway. Snug in his arms, Zinnie was happily gnawing a teething ring. Bill had shared a light laugh with Dawn when the baby shyly hid her face in Bill’s shoulder in the presence of a stranger. Then Carla came to the foyer. She nodded tersely and lifted the baby out of Bill’s arms and walked away. Fortunately, Gordon had been ready to leave, so she could escape Carla’s icy way of ignoring her.
Gordon had been unusually talkative on the drive home, telling her stories about bowling with his dad on Saturday. Just the two of them.
“Earth to Dawn.” Lark waved her hand. “Where did you go?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about the conference,” she lied. She quickly changed the subject to the appointment with Ian and the need for graphic design. All business, all the time. Much as she loved running her firm, she hadn’t planned to spend her thirties living quite like this.
“I’m looking forward to meeting Jerrod and his crew,” Lark said. “Aren’t you glad you and Bill did some diving years ago? You start off with a good understanding of what he does.”
Dawn nodded and fidgeted with the pages of her planner. “That was tropical diving.”
“I suppose you’ll go on a dive with him, so you can see the Franklin Stone and the other one. What is it again? The Alice Swann?”
“Listen to you,” Dawn teased. “Already up on the shipwrecks.”
“Just doing my job. I got the names from the notes you sent and I came up with a few ideas for the copy. How early do you think he’ll go for a trial run—trial dive, I should call it? In May?”
Dawn glanced down and consciously stopped her fingers from continuing to nervously ruffle the page of the planner. She looked up only to see Lark peering into her face. “What?”
“What, indeed,” Lark said. “What’s bothering you? I can see you’re not yourself.”
She couldn’t deny she was troubled. “I guess I’ll tell you my secret. I have to tell someone.”
Lark leaned forward in the chair. “You can trust me. You know that.”
In the past few years Dawn had almost no occasion to think about her bad experience. Even hearing about Jerrod’s business hadn’t brought it back, other than in an abstract way. Now that a diving business was not only in town, but the owner was her client, her fears had returned in a bigger way than she’d expected.
“Bill and I went to a diving class at the YMCA down in Bratton so we could have our certification when we visited St. Croix. Gordon was only three years old, and he stayed with Bill’s parents while we went away for a few days over Christmas break. Bill was still teaching math at the middle school then.” Was it really necessary to go into all that? Probably not, but she hadn’t known Lark then. “Anyway, we did some snorkeling and then we did two dives, which were okay.”
“Just okay?”
Dawn nodded. “Bill loved it, but I was a little afraid all along.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples as if she could massage away the memory of the rising fear. “On the third dive I panicked. I thought I didn’t have any air and couldn’t breathe. I lost sight of the guide, had no sense of where I was. We were well within the water depth that matched our certification, but I did everything wrong. I flailed around and held my breath. Bill saw what was happening and alerted the guide and the two of them surfaced with me.”
“Oh, that sounds awful. And you didn’t dive again?”
“Absolutely not, and I have no desire to. Zero. But I don’t like being afraid of anything. That’s what bothers me.” Even the aftermath hadn’t been pleasant. The panic hadn’t easily subsided once she knew she was safe. For weeks she’d had dreams of being suffocated. Irrational, crazy stuff. Bill would shake her awake, quick to reassure her she wasn’t drowning. It was all a bad dream, start to finish.
Lark frowned. “But Dawn, we had that weekend trip in Florida with the boys just three years ago. We took them snorkeling. You were fine. At least you seemed okay.”
“Oh, I was. Believe me, snorkeling is not diving. Big difference. With snorkeling you easily break the surface and tread water. But in my panic deep underwater, it felt like I had no control over anything, not even my breath.”
Lark’s expression seemed thoughtful. “Nothing says you have to see those shipwrecks or experience an excursion with Jerrod. You simply say it’s not your thing. Or you could tell him what happened. Maybe he’d have ideas about getting past your fears.”
Or, better yet, maybe she could sidestep the whole issue. “I’m a consultant, not his employee. I have nothing to do with the nuts and bolts.” She sat a little straighter in the chair. “Yeah, that’s right. Why am I even worrying about it?”
“Good. That’s the spirit,” Lark agreed, matching Dawn’s tone.
“Now that I’ve tabled that little problem, I suppose I should be on my way.” Dawn yawned and let her head fall back. “But it’s so comfortable here. I wish I didn’t have those phone meetings. I’d stretch out on this couch and take a nap.” She gave her thighs a light slap as she rose from the couch, feeling the shot of energy needed to keep her moving. “By the way,” she said, “I’m putting out some feelers for speaking gigs for Jerrod.”
“You seem to be supplying the whole of Northeast Wisconsin with all the speakers we can handle,” Lark said.
“I take him seriously. He’s so many things. Archeologist, environmentalist, historian and, of course, the big draw, international adventurer. I have a feeling he could make his mark here in Two Moon Bay—and the entire region—in any number of ways.”
Lark cocked her head. “You’ve got my attention. Knowing you as I do, I’m eager to see what kind of a campaign you put together for him.” She opened her front door. “Do you want me to bring Gordon home after practice?”
Dawn let her shoulders drop in relief. “That would be great.”
“Better yet, he can go to Lou’s for pizza with Evan and me. Miles is in Boston for a couple of days, so Evan and I are on our own. You can meet us for dinner there when you’re done with your calls.”
“Thanks so much. Now I don’t have to worry about fixing dinner.” She gave Lark a quick hug and hurried to her car.
As she drove through town, Dawn’s thoughts turned to Lark and the enormous changes in her friend’s life. It made Dawn’s head spin to think Lark was reunited with Miles, the father of a baby girl they’d given up for adoption when they were college students. Eighteen years later, they’d discovered their daughter was the rising figure skating star Perrie Lynn Olson. Dawn still found it remarkable that in working together to learn about their daughter, Lark and Miles had fallen deeply in love. Perrie Lynn had even come to their wedding. It was a matter of addition, not subtraction, Lark had said about how their family formed. She had become stepmom to Miles’s nine-year-old daughter, Brooke, and Lark’s son, Evan, gained a stepdad.
A miracle, Dawn thought, feeling the same surge of pleasure she always did when recalling Lark and Miles’s small but joyful wedding.
Maybe it will happen for me one day, Dawn thought, pulling into her driveway. Maybe. Baby Zinnie had been on her mind, ever since she’d seen her happily snuggled in her daddy’s arms. Bill was a good dad, too. Dawn had never denied that fact, no matter how she’d claimed to hate him for what he’d done to their family. Did Jerrod know how lucky he was to have Carrie, a little sprite full of curiosity?
What was she doing? She had no business asking questions like that.
Chapter Four (#ua16373bd-4ee7-5463-8d75-f1dc24fc31a9)
JERROD PREFERRED TO wait for Dawn to arrive, but Ian Shepherd showed up right on time at 10:00 a.m. Nothing laid-back about the photographer.
Jerrod stood silent as he observed Ian examining the exterior of the two boats as they moved gently at the dock. He took a few shots that seemed random to Jerrod, but based on what he’d seen of Ian’s work on his website, he trusted the photographer had a sharp eye—and a plan. It was a good day for a photo shoot, starting with the calm waters. The scattered clouds in an otherwise blue sky provided a background more dramatic than a clear day.
Ian wore an expression that went way beyond curious. Jerrod knew that look. He’d seen it plenty of times before when the sight of his dive boats sparked someone’s imagination. He’d bet Ian was hungry to experience at least a day trip, maybe some diving. No problem. The trial runs would begin soon.
“From what Dawn told me,” Ian said, “we’ll get some shots today with the boats at the dock. Later, we’ll take more when you’re underway on the water. But she needs some visuals now to send to newspapers and feature writers.”
Ian fixed his gaze on the Lucy Bee. Nodding toward her, he said, “I need a feel for what you’re selling. A sense of what the business is all about.”
Jerrod shrugged. “That’s easy. I sell adventure. And while that tour boat looks tame to me, and maybe to you, everyone defines that a little differently.” That was his philosophy, anyway. For some, adventure was nothing more than a new experience—a short, safe jaunt on a tour boat. For others, his small company offered a chance to explore the mysteries of diving. “Divers are our most satisfied customers. Some people take to scuba like fish to water, and that’s not even a pun.”
“I’ve always known there’s shipwreck diving going on up here,” Ian said pensively, “but I personally don’t know anyone who’s done it. It’s almost like a well-kept secret.”
“Maybe I can change that,” Jerrod said. “As long as people are willing to suit up for cold water, there’s no reason not to enjoy it.” Jerrod was aware of several companies, but they offered less than he did. Fewer diving days and not as much structured training.
Jerrod stared at the dock and kicked away stray clusters of gravel with the toe of his shoe. He was conscious of Ian waiting, not jumping in with a comment just to fill the silence. “My late wife liked to arrange dinner reservations as part of a two- or four-person package. She liked the idea of enhancing visitors’ vacations—she’d even make some calls to get a golf outing add-on and make it a two-day deal. Over the years, quite a few couples or groups took her up on it.” He stared at the ground again. “She was one of a kind, my wife.”
Why had he said all that? He looked up into Ian’s questioning eyes. He’d wandered right up to the door of the danger zone, but he wouldn’t let himself cross the threshold. He changed his tone when he continued. “Sorry, didn’t mean to take that detour. Now that I’m up here for the season, we might try the same kind of packaging ideas. We won’t invest a lot of time on it for our first season, but we’ll see if some extra customer service works.”
Ian pointed to the Lucy Bee. “But I expect your day trips will be the bread and butter, huh?”
“I think so, especially for this first summer.” He spoke with determination, but he was desperate not to get lost in nostalgia, reliving the best years of his life. He thought he was mostly over those jaunts into the past. He hadn’t expected that filling in the history of his business would stir up so much emotion.
Refocusing on providing Ian with facts, Jerrod cleared his throat and pointed to the open water.
“Hold it right there, skipper,” Ian said with a laugh. “I want to catch you in the act of gesturing toward the water—it communicates partly what you feel about the lake itself.”
For some reason, Ian’s words didn’t lift Jerrod’s spirits much, but it wasn’t the photographer’s fault. Faking it, Jerrod grinned. “Follow me.”
“At last,” Ian said, following Jerrod aboard the Lucy Bee.
“This is a classic passenger ferry, redone, refitted, repurposed,” Jerrod quipped. “Since Dawn tells me anything considered classic sells, we’ll use those exact words in the brochure.”
“Hmm...she’s right. ‘Repurposed’ is big these days, too.” Ian stepped down to the passenger well and aimed his camera at the wooden benches and the planked deck.
“What made you choose our neck of the woods?” Ian asked, as he kept at it, aiming his camera, angling it over the stern, up the companionway to the wheelhouse. He climbed on a side bench and from that perch, shot the bow of the dive boat, Wind Spray.
Good question. It wasn’t just the story of the ships, with colorful names like Fountain City or Empire Lake. Nor was it the venerable shipbuilders, whose stories fascinated him and he found himself retelling to Wyatt and Rob. “This is a beautiful stretch of coast on both sides of the lake, right down to Chicago and up to Mackinac Island. People are drawn here. I was drawn here.”
Jerrod struggled to quiet the new bittersweet feelings his surroundings triggered. Augusta had grown up in Milwaukee, but he wasn’t so foolish to think he’d keep her alive for Carrie in some mystical way by coming all the way to the thumb of Wisconsin. He was clear about that.
“I don’t know if this will make sense to you, but I like places that don’t take themselves too seriously. There was nothing pretentious about the Lake Erie shore where I grew up, or the Milwaukee lakeshore where my wife spent her childhood and I did some commercial diving. And it’s the same here.”
Ian laughed as if Jerrod had made a really funny joke. He waved at the plain wooden marina and boatyard building. “No curlicue silver lettering on that sign—or even a fresh coat of paint.”
Amused, Jerrod could see the two-story building and what looked like its makeshift additions. It was neither cute and quaint nor upscale and elegant. It desperately needed a makeover. “Watch it, Ian. My office is in one of those square sections stuck on the back.”
“If lack of pretention attracted you,” Ian said, still chuckling, “you won’t be disappointed. But Two Moon Bay has many strong points. Nelson’s building may not be fancy, but all summer long, sailboats and motor yachts stay at his docks and visitors and locals wander around town and always end up down here.”
Jerrod agreed with Ian’s take about the feel of this small town. It didn’t surprise him the waterfront attracted lots of marine and foot traffic. It spoke of safety, too. After the horror of what had happened, Jerrod sought as much safety for Carrie as possible. He also craved a lack of drama, even in the landscape. Two Moon Bay provided the comfort and a degree of anonymity he wanted. That’s why he hadn’t told Dawn about what happened to his wife, just that he’d lost her. He hadn’t even mentioned Dabny.
“I wonder what’s keeping Dawn,” Ian said, lowering his camera. “I usually arrive early to appointments she arranges. Most of the time, she’s already there.”
“I haven’t heard anything from her,” Jerrod said. In the back of his mind, he’d also been wondering where she was. “I just started working with her, but she sure seems reliable. Always does exactly what she says she’s going to do.” He pointed to Ian. “She said she’d arrange today’s photo shoot, and here you are.”
“Why don’t we keep going, as long as I’m here? Dawn and the writer she works with, Lark McGee, will do the copy later, anyway.”
Jerrod was reluctant, but then they’d already started, more or less. Before leaving the Lucy Bee, he pointed out all the basics, from the safety to the snack bar. He described the video and slideshow that went with his tour scripts, including the graphics of old newspaper headlines and accounts that always appealed to audiences in Florida and the Virgin Islands. Just because they weren’t diving didn’t mean they weren’t interested in hearing folklore about storms and sunken treasure.
“I guess you’d say I’m an amateur cultural historian of the unpretentious Great Lakes.”
“I’ve got terrific shots of you as you’re talking.” Ian patted the camera. “Your passion comes through, exactly as Dawn described. And the camera doesn’t ignore it nor lie about what it picks up.”
At another mention of Dawn, Jerrod finally admitted he was annoyed. Until he got information to contradict it, it appeared Dawn had stood him up. In fact, the longer he thought about it, Dawn’s absence went from annoying to really maddening. She’d let him down in a major way. But he kept his professional demeanor long enough to give Ian some space to shoot photos of Wind Spray, a white fiberglass boat gleaming in the sun. Every piece of equipment and even the way it was arranged communicated care and safety. He was proud of that.
“We don’t settle for anything less than the best equipment kept in top shape.” He patted the tank racks and pointed to the storage bins. “We provide everything, although some people bring their own gear. Masks, gloves, hats, dive boots, and wet and dry suits suitable for the climate.”
Ian’s quick camera work kept Jerrod animated. “I like working with new divers, and kids, too. Teenagers can dive safely, as long as they’re taught well. Besides, they aren’t jaded. They think spotting old bottles on the bottom is cool.”
Ian began talking about his own desire to dive and Jerrod tried to listen, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring off the stern of the boat and craning his neck to look for Dawn’s blue car.
Jerrod led the way off the boat and onto the dock.
“I’ll be in touch,” Ian said tentatively. “I’m sure Dawn has a good explanation for not showing up.”
Jerrod nodded, but wasn’t so confident. Ian stayed put, as if waiting for something. Jerrod jumped when his phone signaled a new text. “Maybe this is something from her.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sure enough, here it is, Ian. She says she was in a car accident, rear-ended. She’s at the emergency room. Her car was towed away. But she’s okay. If that’s the case, then why...” He stopped talking when Ian’s phone pinged.
Ian read his text and nodded. “It’s Dawn. She’s at Northeast Memorial Hospital. Not far from here. A mile or so down the road.”
“That car of hers, it’s so small,” Jerrod said, giving voice to his visions of a bashed-in trunk and back seat. Irrationally, he was angry that she didn’t drive a sturdier minivan or even a truck.
“It’s a standard compact car,” Ian said, frowning at him. “It’s not especially small.”
Jerrod caught Ian’s puzzled expression, but was too distracted by his heart beating wildly in his chest to say anything. Calm down. She said she’s fine. “Uh, she’s going to need a ride home, assuming she’ll be released.”
Ian waved him off. “No problem, man, I can go. I know where the hospital is.”
No, that wasn’t right. He should go. He should make sure she was okay. She’d been hurt on her way to see him. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to sound casual when he said, “No, I insist. I’ll go. I’ll get directions on my phone.”
Ian stared at him as if searching for something in his face. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble. Besides, she might have called someone by now. Probably Lark. You might want to check with her before taking off.”
Maybe so, but she’d only probably protest that she was fine. It wouldn’t do any harm to show up there. “I’ll check it out. My little girl is at school and her nanny is picking her up later.” Swatting the air dismissively, he said, “You go on, Ian. I’ve got this.”
Jerrod started down the dock to his van, with Ian following right behind. Of course, Jerrod knew he should call Dawn. But he chose to ignore logic. It made no sense, but the closing fist in his gut told him he had to see for himself that she was okay.
* * *
THE NURSE HANDED Dawn the envelope with the six pain pills. “Take as needed. You can talk to your doctor if you need more.”
“Thanks, Adele, but I’ll be fine,” she said. Why had she been so quick to say that? Her wrist was badly sprained and secured in a removable splint. An immobilizer, Adele called it. She’d twisted her knee and banged her head in her rapid escape from her mangled car. But no, she told Adele, a nurse who, as it happened, used to work for Gordon’s pediatrician, she was fine. What a joke.
“Don’t be a martyr, Dawn. You’ve had one pill, and you can have another in six hours. I recommend taking it to stop a pain cycle in its tracks.” The nurse tapped the straps holding the splint in place around her hand and wrist. “In a day or two you’ll still be sore, but probably not in unbearable pain.”
“But if I took the med, I can’t drive today. Is that true?”
“Well, you don’t have a car. Remember?” Adele picked up Dawn’s good hand and held it between both of hers. “I know you, so I can imagine your mind is jumping ahead to whatever was in that appointment book you lug around in your attaché. It makes me think of the carry-on bag I take on flights.”
Dawn laughed in spite of herself. “I get it. I’ll slow down. Tomorrow is soon enough to get a loaner or a rental.” She gently walked her fingers over the lump on her head starting at her hairline and ending at the outer edge of her eyebrow. Even without seeing it she knew it was turning into a spreading purple bruise she’d walk around with for a couple weeks.
“Fortunately, I only missed one actual appointment today. I planned the afternoon for phone calls and writing press releases.”
“All that can wait.” Adele waved the paper she held in her hand. “I have your aftercare instructions right here. Point number three,” she said, poking at a number on the page, “is rest.”
Dawn managed a grin and nodded to her phone on the chair. “Now it’s time to call a cab.” Knowing she’d come through the three-car accident without being badly hurt, her thoughts turned to the others involved. “By the way, Dr. Adams said no one was seriously injured. Is that true?”
“Yes—even the guy who plowed into the car behind you is okay. Apparently, his brakes failed and that’s why he couldn’t stop.”
Dawn winced against the memory of the shock when the car behind her inexplicably hit the back of her car at the stop sign. She tried to get away by flooring the accelerator, but the car came faster than she could move forward. The sharp turn she made to avoid—unsuccessfully, as it turned out—hitting another car caused her to careen into a mailbox. Ironically, she’d sprained her wrist, twisted her knee and banged her head during her effort to escape from the car as quickly as possible. Fear of an explosion had pushed her to act so quickly. Fortunately, the fiery demise of her car never came, although it was badly damaged. Still, as upset as she’d been, in her heart she was aware how close she’d come to a real catastrophe.
“They can call a taxi for you at the desk,” Adele said, taking hold of her elbow so she could help her off the exam table. Dawn moved gingerly to avoid landing too hard and fast on her wrapped knee, the least of her injuries. A little light-headed, Dawn was grateful for Adele’s firm grasp as she draped her coat around her shoulders. The curtain suddenly pulled back, startling her. She rocked to one side, but was righted again by Adele’s firm hold on her. Dawn recognized the woman as the front desk clerk she’d spoken to when the police had brought her in.
“Uh, there’s a man at the desk asking about Ms. Larsen. He’s not family, but he said he was here to see how she was. He can drive her home.”
“Ah, Ian,” Dawn said. “I had an appointment with him and a new client. I texted him to let him know what happened.” She looked at the desk clerk. “Tall guy, unruly blond hair?”
“Tall, but dark-haired. He said his name was Waters...no, Walters.”
“Jerrod?” She let her aching head drop back. “Oh, no.”
“What?” Adele studied her face as if looking for clues. “Who is Jerrod? And why is it a bad thing he’s here?”
“He’s my new client. I texted him to let him know why I didn’t show up this morning for a photo shoot.” She looked down at herself and moaned. She had a rip in the knee of her best jeans. The sleeve of her coat had an ugly tear, as well. All that to go with her bruised face. “I didn’t want anyone seeing me like this, but especially a client. Here I am, not only disheveled, but wobbly, too.”
“So you’ll let him grip your elbow and keep you on your feet.” Adele spoke in a firm tone. “Get real, Dawn. You’ve been hurt and someone stepped up to offer his help. Accept it.”
What choice did she have? Besides, Jerrod was only being kind. She’d already seen his kindness—and loyalty—on display interacting with Wyatt and Rob, and his little girl.
“Please, tell him I’ll be right out.” When the clerk disappeared, she turned to Adele. “Thanks for bringing me back to reality. I had the idea I’d walk out of here and restart my day like nothing happened.”
“I know the type,” Adele said with a laugh. “Takes one to know one. Now, hang on to my arm so I can walk you to the waiting room and deliver you into capable hands.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
With Adele setting the slow shuffling pace, it took a couple of minutes to reach the exit doors leading to the intake area. She spotted Jerrod immediately.
“There he is,” Dawn said, raising her wrapped hand to indicate Jerrod. He turned when they were a few feet behind him.
“You’re walking.” The muscles in Jerrod’s face visibly relaxed. “That’s a good sign.”
“I came in sitting in a wheelchair, but I’m determined to leave on my own two feet.”
She caught Jerrod’s quick glance at Adele. Was that a not-so-subtle eye roll?
“She’s supposed to rest,” Adele said to Jerrod.
“I see.” Jerrod looked at Adele in the serious way Dawn already had come to recognize. “I think I can handle it from here.”
“Quit talking about me like I’m not here,” Dawn said.
Looking amused and a little smug, Adele said goodbye and disappeared through the doors to the treatment cubicles. Dawn sat in the nearest chair while Jerrod left to move his van to the entrance. Then, after shuffling to the van, she had no choice but to accept help to lift her hip and slide onto the seat. That brought her a little too close to Jerrod for comfort. For a few seconds she could feel his warm breath on her cheek and neck. It would have been so easy to drop her head against his chest and just rest there. Even in her hazy mind, she was aware that what seemed such a pleasant fantasy was a really terrible idea.
On the drive home, Jerrod filled her in on his meeting with Ian. Satisfied that it had gone well, she perked up a little. So, the day wasn’t a total loss. When they pulled into her driveway, she invited Jerrod inside because it seemed like the polite thing to do, and then was surprised when he accepted. She’d imagined him eager to get on with his day. Once in the house, he shed his jacket and tossed it in a chair. Then he steered her to the couch and offered to make tea.
“That sounds good.” She sighed as she surrendered to the puffy cushions that enveloped her. “I’ll even share the bag of sugar cookies I picked up at the bakery. They’re in the cabinet with the tea.” Her living room and dining room-kitchen were open, so she could see into the kitchen and watch Jerrod fill the kettle and find the mugs. What a relief her house was pretty neat. On another day, it could have been a whole different story.
With thoughts of moving to the table, she tried to scoot to the edge of the couch seat.
“You stay where you are,” he said. “I can handle this.”
Losing steam by the second, Dawn offered no protest. She kicked off her sneakers and lifted her injured leg up to rest on the coffee table and thought about all the lost time in her day. The hours had passed quickly and now it wouldn’t be long before Gordon’s bus pulled up to the curb. Since he couldn’t come pick her up or do anything else to help her, she hadn’t sent her son a text. No sense interrupting the normal course of his day.
Jerrod brought the tea and cookies in two trips and then settled in the chair closest to the couch. Dawn picked up the hot mug and blew across the top of the strong black tea. “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”
“I know what you mean,” Jerrod said, his voice low. He opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it.
She flashed back to his serious demeanor as he walked her to her car. Was that only yesterday? She kept quiet, but she was pretty sure she knew what was on his mind. “We were due to talk after the photo shoot. I was going to suggest coffee at the Bean Grinder.” She lifted her injured arm. “Best-laid plans and all that.”
Seeing his expression darken, she held back the probing question on the tip of her tongue. “Okay, I’m listening.”
With nothing else to say, she reached for a cookie, surprised by the beads of sweat forming at the back of her neck. She wrote it off to the hot tea, the pain pill, even the stress of the accident, but it was hard to ignore the tension in the air.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/virginia-mccullough/something-to-treasure/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.